sdmn one sh~i~ts

Twenty Five Days

words: 1113   (2/3)
warnings: disordered eating ⚠️

Twenty five days.

That's how long he's been on this diet. At least he thinks so. The days are starting to blur together and he can never remember what day actually it is.

He stands on the familiar scale, waiting for the numbers to appear. As he stands on there, he looks at his face.

His eyes... look dead and the bags underneath them are so prominent.

It's harrowing, to see his reflection. It doesn't feel like he's looking at himself. He remembers chubby cheeks and a smile. The person in the mirror looks like a hollow shell of who he once was.

He finally brings himself to look down at the scale. He can't think of that right now, he has more important things to worry about.

He did it. He lost all the weight he needed to. He met his goal.

But then why... why doesn't he feel accomplished? Why doesn't he feel happy?

He did what he had to do. He's here now, weighing so much less but then why is he so unsatisfied? Why does he feel greedy? Why does he want more.

He can eat now. He can stop exercising like crazy now, right?

But he could loose so much more. He imagined how much more people would love him, respect him. How much more he would love him if he had a perfect body.

It sounded tempting. If he'd already lost this much, what harm would it do to lose more?

But he'd already lost so much. He did it, he can eat again, he feels like he deserves it.

His thoughts began to argue with each other as he clutched his head. His common sense says it's okay to eat, but there are so many reasons not to.

He pinched his nose to stop the tears. He couldn't be bothered to cry, he was too tired.

He'd figure it out in the morning. It was two am and he knew he needed to rest. He was so exhausted.

So he turned the light off and left the bathroom, only managing to make it a few steps before he bumps into someone.

He grumbled as he fell back, trying his best  not to hear how loud it sounds when he lands. It sounded like a stampede of elephants, and he grimaced at the reminder of how heavy he was. Too heavy.

"Harry?"

It's Lux's voice. Harry flinches, scrambling to his feet. It takes some effort, his body feels weak and light.

"Sorry mate, didn't see where I was going." He whispers.

Lux looks at him. He squirms, he doesn't like the look in his eyes. Something is off.

"Harry why are you awake?"

Harry bites down on his cheek, the lies slipping through his lips like it's second nature. "Just had to piss, that's all."

"Sure." He says. His eyes soften, "Harry... if something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah, course mate. I trust you."

Lies, lies, lies.

He wants to yell it out, to tell his friend about what he's doing but he keeps himself quiet.

"Okay," Lux looks disappointed and Harry knows he put that look on his face, "go to bed, we all have busy schedules tomorrow."

Harry nods and slips into his room. He quietly walks to his bed and slides under his bedsheet.

Oh, he's shaking.

He didn't even notice. Had he been shaking this entire time? He doesn't feel when his body shakes anymore. He's gotten so used to always feeling cold that it doesn't even register in his mind.

He just needs to sleep, that's it. He needs to sleep and it will all be better.

He silently prays he never wakes up.

***

"Haz-"

"-he okay?"

"C'mon bud wake up-"

Harry groans as he feels someone shake him. He blinks, trying to open his eyes but his eyelids feel heavy.

"You're almost there, just open your eyes."

He opens his eyes and almost closes them again, the lights are blinding. There are people standing above him but it all looks like blurs. He blinks his eyes, trying to shake away the dizziness.

When he regains his vision, he sees both his roommates staring at him with concern.

He gasps, trying to stand up but someone pushes him back down. What happened? Where is he? What time is it?

He can feel his anxiety burst into action as he tries to remember what happened. It all comes up blank. He can't remember a thing. What day is it?

"Calm down Haz, you're okay, you're on the kitchen floor." Lux says soothingly.

The kitchen? That's the last place he'd be in.

"I'm okay."

It's all he says, finally sitting up and staring at the room. On the floor lies a packet of cookies. They've all fallen to the floor, spread around him almost perfectly.

What?

And then it hits him. He woke up at four am in pain, his stomach aching. He felt so nauseous and the pain was sharp and brutal. He remembers stumbling to the kitchen, hoping that if he ate anything the pain, the ache, would go away.

After that it all goes blank.

"Yeah, 'okay' my fucking ass." Freezy says, his face serious. For once he's not playing around, "Harry we found you passed out on the floor."

So that's what happened.

He'd been doing that lately. He'll black out or pass out at random. There are spots in his memories. He doesn't know why it happens but the next moment he'll awake with no memory of even closing his eyes.

This is obviously the first time someone else had witnessed it.

He started to feel shame. How could he let his friends see him like this? He's a mess, he most likely looks disgusting and his face is probably all fat and swollen.

"I-I hit my head, not hard, but then I slipped and fell. That's all I remember." He lies. The lie sounds weak even to his own ears.

He stands up with his both of the Cal's help and thanks them, not meeting any of their eyes.

"Harry... if something is going on-" Lux starts.

His brain kicks in almost as a reflex, cutting his friends sentence short. He hates it. He didn't want to lie this time.

"Nothing is wrong. I'm fine." He says as he pushes past them and speed walks to his room. He can hear his name but he ignores it.

He lies down on his bed, scoffs. He wished they would stop with asking him these incessant questions, and trying to start conversation. There's nothing wrong with him.

He's fine.